Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog - 22

I stood beside his dead body an hour after the spirit had left it. I had
never before, and have never since, seen one so beautiful in death. The
last rays of the setting sun streamed softly in at an open window, and
one sweet ray fell upon his head. It was a bright halo,--a glorious
crown, for that sleeping dust to wear. The fair, wide brow, the rich,
dark curls, the softly-closed eyelids, the beautiful mouth, had never
been so lovely.  All was life-like,--radiant. There was an expression of
heavenly joy I have never seen in a sleeper since. I had not seen him in
his mortal agony, and now it seemed impossible he could have ever
suffered. Can this be death, thought I?--Ah, there is a stillness too
deep for life! Those closed lips do not move; those eyes do not open;
there is no lingering breath, no beating heart! It is only dust. The
spirit _has_ fled! Beautiful sleeper! There shall be no waking of
thy precious dust till the resurrection morning!

Others came in, and I left the room, reluctantly, for it was pleasant to
me to be near one I had loved in life. I went into the sitting-room,
several neighbors were moving about, but the mother was not there. I
found her in the piazza; she was calm, but oh, who could fathom the
depths of her anguish?  Who but He who formed the soul with all its
mysterious capacities for suffering?

The red light lay on the western hills, and they were very beautiful in
their summer greenness, stretching along the horizon in wavy outlines;
the summer sky above was beautiful, and so were the quiet fields, and
the ancient trees standing breathlessly silent in that glorious
twilight. Rays of heaven were blending with all that was loveliest on
earth; but though the mother's eye was fixed upon the scene, it was
evident she did not see it, nor feel its healing power. What wonder? The
agony was too recent,--the  blighting of all her hopes too sudden for
resignation and peace to come into her soul at once. The heavy blow had
fallen, and her heart was crushed! No tear was in her eye, no trembling
in her voice, as she replied to questions; but a face more expressive of
utter woe I have seldom seen. What word of consolation could a mortal
speak at such an hour? "The heart knoweth its own bitterness," and a
stranger may not inter-meddle with its griefs. Let it be alone with God!

Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog - 21

CHAPTER VI.


SAD NEWS.

It was a hot Saturday in August, when Henry Hamilton left school to go
home and spend the Sabbath with his mother. This he frequently did, as
it was but ten miles distant, and such a walk was only pastime to the
vigorous youth, now glowing with health and strength in every vein. On
this day however, the walk appeared unusually long to him; and he sat
down twice by the road-side to rest himself. This was very uncommon;
but he said nothing of fatigue when he reached home about sunset. He met
them with his usual cheerful smile, and had a laugh and pleasant words
for the children as they crowded round him. Of all Mrs. Hamilton's
children, Henry was the most sanguine and light-hearted, and when at
home, he was always the life of the family circle. He was sincerely
desirous of gaining a thorough education, and of doing credit to his
patrons and friends, and he hoped to be permitted to accomplish much
good in the world, when he had acquired his profession. There was much
enthusiasm in his character, and much of generous impulse; yet they were
modified by Christian principle. Henry was a sincere Christian. There
was little of noisy pretension, or loud profession; but in his soul was
a deep and abiding sense of obligation to God; a supreme desire to do
his will, and a fervent love to his fellow-men. To a remarkably fine
person, was added an intellect of uncommon quickness and discrimination,
and his teachers spoke in high commendation of his progress. We have
said he was the favorite son of his mother; and if a thrill of pride
passed through her heart as she gazed on his beaming face, if she
garnered up in her inmost soul many precious dreams of a brilliant
future, who can wonder? Who shall blame her?

It is now many years since "the dust fell on that sunny brow," but I
well remember Henry Hamilton--"handsome  Henry Hamilton"--and seldom
indeed since have I seen a more striking form and face. There was a
frank, joyous expression beaming forth from his dark eyes, and his mouth
had always a sweet smile playing about it; there was a high intellectual
forehead, indicating thought, though it was half hidden by the sunny,
brown curls which clustered about it, and gave a youthful look to even
this portion of his face. His tall, well-developed figure was the
perfection of manly symmetry, and his musical laugh was ever ringing out
freely and unconsciously. His temperament was just the reverse of
Arthur's. Bold, courageous, self-relying, he hoped all things, and
feared nothing that man could do; by nature too, he was quick and
passionate, yet full of affection and all generous impulses. Such was
Henry Hamilton, now eighteen years of age--the pride of his family--the
favorite of all who knew him.

The night of his return home, he became violently ill, and no remedies
appeared to relieve his sufferings. I will not pain my young readers
with a recital of his agonies. They were most intense; and on the third
day after he was attacked, at six o'clock in the afternoon, he went from
an earthly to a heavenly home; from the bosom of his mother, to the
bosom of his God! There were few intervals of sufficient ease, to allow
of conversation. During these, he expressed entire confidence in the
Saviour, and perfect submission to the will of God, though death then
was most unexpected  to him. He also expressed regret that he had done
so little for God, and besought a friend who stood by his bedside, to be
faithful to his Christian vows.

The last struggle was a fearful one; but his mother supported him in her
arms to the last; and to her his last look was given,--a look of sweet
affection, trust, and gratitude.

Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog - 20

"Oh, I am glad he is gone, mother, for this dear brother was all alone."

"So I glad," echoed Charlie, who was snugly tucked into the trundle-bed.
"Yes," said their mother, kissing them both, "it always makes us glad
when we have made another happy;  and I am glad you have had an
opportunity of learning early how pleasant it is to make sacrifices for
others."

"The darkest lot is not all gloom," thought she as she sat down by her
little table and began to sew. "Poverty can teach many sweet lessons,
and give us many rich enjoyments." And her eyes filled with tears; but
they were sweet, refreshing tears.




CHAPTER V.


BRIGHTER DAYS.

Arthur was never lonely now; for Rover was constantly at his side,
except in school, and he always went to the school-room door with him in
the morning, and often when Arthur came out of school at night, he would
find Rover standing by the door, waiting for him. A happy dog was Rover,
in his new home. Mrs. Martin fed him with her own hand, and many a nice
dainty did he get, which he was not accustomed to. Arthur was such a
sweet-tempered, obliging boy, so ready to obey her, and had such gentle,
respectful manners, that the good old lady was glad to make Rover happy
for his sake. Obliging little boys almost always find that those they
live with, are obliging too; while quarrelsome boys usually find it
their fortune to fall among quarrelsome companions;  for good temper and
bad temper are both contagious and infect all those who come in contact
with them.

On bright, cold winter mornings, after eating his nice breakfast, Rover
would scamper off to school with Arthur. He was in too fine spirits to
walk by his side, so he would bound off before him, plunging into the
snow drifts up to his neck; then bound back again, with a short quick
bark, shaking himself from the feathery snow; and away again for another
merry race. If he was separated for an hour from Arthur, he would leap
up at his return, and almost overwhelm him with his rough embraces. But
this seldom happened out of school hours, for let Arthur go where he
would, to the barn, the brook, of an errand, or on a visit to his friend
Theodore, there Rover was sure to follow. Arthur would sometimes take
him into his room at night and let him lie there, but Mrs. Martin did
not approve of this, but as she was always up by day-light, she would
open the door and Rover would go scampering up the stairs ready for a
great frolic on Arthur's bed.

As the school continued, Arthur became attached to his teacher and was
quite a favorite with his schoolmates.  "_Little_ Arthur Hamilton"
he was always called by them, not because there were not many other boys
smaller than he, but from his gentleness and timid softness, he seemed
one to be protected by them; and the roughest boy never thought of
pushing and striking _him_.

Arthur made a visit of two days at home in the spring vacation. His
mother's heart was cheered by the visible improvement in her boy; and
she told him he had done much to make her happy, by rising above his
weakness and gaining the victory over his besetting sin. "Nothing," she
told him, "could ever grieve his mother's heart like seeing her children
do wrong; nothing ever make her so happy as their doing right."

Henry was still at the Academy, hoping to enter College the ensuing
Commencement; Lucy with her aunt; and James at Captain L's. Arthur did
not see them, but he had a pleasant visit with the rest. He went to all
his favorite places of resort; the orchard, the "old pasture," and the
little brook in the meadow. He led Charlie in one hand, and Emma in the
other out on the green grass in the lot, and picked for them the pretty
wild-flowers which were springing up everywhere among it, while Rover
ran along by their side, or bounded off in a merry frolic. They were all
glad to see Rover once more, and never was a dog so petted and caressed,
as he was on this visit to his old friends.

When Arthur returned home, he found that the spring had brought a
variety of labors with it. Mr. Martin was a farmer, and there were many
things to do, suited to his age and strength. He did all that was
required of him with alacrity, but he often found at night that his
limbs were very weary when he lay down in bed. Mr. Martin soon found he
could not endure so much as most boys of his age; but said he to his
wife,

"Out-of-door work will do him good, and make him hearty; a woman never
can bring up a boy properly!"

Mrs. Hamilton also hoped that exercise in the open air would give tone
and vigor to his somewhat delicate system, and develope his slender
frame into manly strength and symmetry. She wished nothing better for
her sons than to become intelligent, industrious, and honest farmers;
and such with God's blessing she hoped Arthur would in time be.

Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog - 19

"Oh no, no!" said Arthur, "would you have the poor squirrel starve?"

"Oh, he'll find enough to eat, never fear," said Theodore, "a squirrel
is too cunning to starve."

"But it isn't right to take them, Theodore. Just think how many hours
the little fellow worked, and how hard he tugged to get them all in
here, and they are _his_ now, I'm sure; he has a good right to
them, and I wouldn't any sooner rob him of his nuts, than I would a man
of his money!"

"La, what a fuss you make about it;" said Theodore with a loud laugh,
"but since you feel so bad, I'll let his squirrelship alone, this time."

"Thank you," said Arthur, "and now, Theodore, I must say if you had done
it, I wouldn't have liked to play with you so well as I did before, for
I should think you were a cruel boy, and I couldn't love you."

"You are a curious fellow," said Theodore, with another loud laugh. Such
lessons were not lost on Theodore, for though he had had very little
instruction in morals or manners, he had a heart in the right place
under his rough outside.

"We'll begin our stone house to-night, if you'll come in, Theodore,"
said Arthur, as they reached Mr. Martin's gate.

"No, I can't stop to-night. Sister Susan is coming to see us, and I want
to get home early."

This made Arthur think of _his_ sisters, and it was with rather a
heavy heart he entered the yard. Mr. Martin stood near the door, and as
Arthur passed him, he said,

"I have got a present in the house for you!"

"A present for _me_, sir!" said Arthur,

"Yes, for you; and something you'll like too, I guess. What do you think
it is?" Rover, who knew the sound of Arthur's voice began to bark
loudly, and in a moment the door was opened, and he was in Arthur's
arms. Never was there a more joyful meeting between old friends. Arthur
was so excited that he laughed and cried at once, and said all kinds of
wild things to Rover, who in his turn, kept caressing his young master,
and telling him in his way, how glad he was to see him again. And indeed
the poor dumb animal seemed to express as much affection and delight, as
if he had had a tongue to say in words, how much he loved him.

"How do you like your present, my boy?" said Mr. Martin.

Arthur could hardly speak for emotion, but in a moment he replied, "Very
much, indeed, sir, and you are very good to get him for me. But may he
stay here with me?"

"Yes, he is your dog now, Arthur; they have given him to you at home;
they seem to set a great deal by him too, there."

Arthur well knew how dearly they all loved Rover, and he felt sure it
must have been hard for them to give him up. His heart was touched by
this generosity and he resolved to become worthy of it, and to strive to
do something to make the family happy in return.

Rover seemed to impart new life to Arthur. He had now something to love,
and something that loved him; and though it was only a poor dumb animal,
it filled the vacant place in his heart. Never had Mrs. Martin seen his
dark eyes sparkle so, and his pale cheek look so bright.

And did the children at home regret making this sacrifice for their
little brother's sake? If any little reader asks this question, we fear
they have never tried the experiment of giving up something they loved,
to make another happy. If they had, they would know, what great delight
there was in it; what a warm, delicious feeling it spreads throughout
the heart. "It _is_ more blessed to give than to receive," and
happy as Arthur was in receiving this precious present, they were still
happier in having given it. As Mrs. Hamilton was undressing Emma that
night, the latter said, "Mother, do you think Arthur has got Rover yet?"